


It's Time For Me To Fall Apart (Ryden)

by majesticdragonair



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: 2014, Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie, Suicide, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Love, im also bad at writing angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9180115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticdragonair/pseuds/majesticdragonair
Summary: Ryan, ever since he was a teenager, hoped he would receive a happy ending with a boy he would fall in love with. But now he's twenty-nine, and he realises he'll never have a happy ending.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Oh, Why Can't We Talk Again?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5579860) by [emeraldcitydowntowngirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldcitydowntowngirl/pseuds/emeraldcitydowntowngirl). 



> for once i felt like writing angst, so here it is. this was heavily inspired by an angsty ryden fic (and is a somewhat copy but is also somewhat different, sorry) that's listed at the top, which i recommend you read !! this is unbeta-ed, so i apologise for any mistakes.
> 
> also it seems i like grabbing song lyrics for titles a lot. it's from fall out boy's "miss missing you" :-3
> 
> trigger warnings: this mentions on of the characters committing suicide by overdosing. i would advise you to not read this if you're sensitive to that. but if you aren't or wish to ignore this warning, read at your own precaution. stay safe, everyone.

It was past three am and Ryan was awake.

Of course he was awake. It’s not like he slept at a normal time anymore, not after his life went to fucking shit. It was not long after The Young Veins crashed and burned, Ryan having fucked Jon over and tearing them –and their band– apart.

But Ryan always did that. His parting with Panic! At The Disco proved that.

God that had been Ryan’s worst days, when he left Brendon and Spencer. He wished he never did it. He wished he could’ve joined back.

But of course not. Because when Ryan Ross is involved, everything royally fucks up.

He sighed as he pulled the cancer stick to his mouth and breathing out, removing the cigarette and breathing out again. It burned his lungs, but the pain was something he needed. It was nice. He watched the smoke trail out of his mouth and disappear in the air, sighing again. He leaned over and took a small sip from the vodka bottle on his bed, making a face and placing it on the dresser.

 

God, he hated this. Hated how hadn’t been paining his rent and was just lying here waiting to be kicked out. Hating how he hadn’t had anything for dinner. How he didn’t have the money for anything these days.

Maybe he should get a fucking job, but really, what was the point anymore? Ryan didn’t think there was any point anymore, especially now since he’s probably going to die on the streets in the near future.

He contemplated it. Wouldn’t it just be easier if he killed himself? It isn’t like anyone would miss him. Hell, it would probably take a few days for them to even find his body. It’s not like he got any visitors, it’s not like anybody cared to see if he was holding up okay.

Which he defiantly was not, but that didn’t matter right now. He’s pretty sure he had a little over half full bottle of painkillers in the bathroom. That would do it, yeah? And they wouldn’t be able to pump it out if they didn’t find him in the next day or two.

Ryan sat up, leaning over to the dresser to put his cigarette out when he realised he was actually going to do this. He was actually going to swallow a bunch of pills and never see the light of day ever again.

And he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t ecstatic, either, but he wasn’t backing out of it. He leaned over the side of the bed, but his right hand brushed against something hard and cold. Looking over, he wrapped his fingers and pulled the object out from under the pillow.

It was his phone.

He sucked in a breath and pulled it towards himself, clicking the home button. He smiled as he realised it was a selfie of him and Jon, when they were in their own little band and trying to make it again.

Of course, Ryan fucked that up. But he doesn’t have the heart to change his phone wallpaper, he never has. He wish Jon was still his friend, but it’s too late now…

Unlocking his phone screen, his little smile disappeared as he came across his home screen. It had a picture of Ryan and Brendon from 2009. They were on tour, and they were backstage, Brendon kissing Ryan’s cheek (although, it looked like he had kissed the corner of his lips) as he smiled. They had just gotten offstage, and he thinks Spencer took the photo, it might’ve been Jon though, he couldn’t remember.

He was smiling in the picture. A full smile, lips curled and teeth on display. He hadn’t smiled like that in years, he’s never been able to. He’s never had a reason to smile like that, not since he fucked up and walked out of the band.

He felt like he was on autopilot when his thumb hovered over the contacts app, pressing on it and pressing on Brendon’s contact. He sucked in a breath when he read the name, and the number, which he could recite without having to look at it. Over the years of looking at the number and wanting to text, to call, to do something and yet he hadn’t, he had remembered it like it was his own name.

He was going to die. It was nearly four in the morning. It was dark, the only light outside in the middle of February being the street lights. It was numbingly cold, since Ryan didn’t have the heater on and was wearing only his pyjamas.

And he was going to die.

And maybe, just maybe, he sucked up a little bit of courage to press the ‘call’ button next to Brendon’s number. And maybe, just maybe, he placed the phone to his ear and stood up, slowly walking towards the bathroom, picking up the bottle of vodka on his bedside table and taking it with him.

But shit, he didn’t expect the voice on the other line. “Hello?”

It was a little muffled, making Ryan believe that he had woken the younger male up. But he didn’t care, because he was hearing Brendon’s voice. He stumbled into the bathroom, flickering on the light. And maybe, just maybe, he had the courage to say a soft sounding “is this Brendon?”

The person on the other line groaned a little. “Yes, and whoever this is better have a reason for waking me up at-“ the voice paused, before Brendon spoke again. “Four in the fucking morning. Who is this?”

Ryan sucked in air, and realised that he didn’t have the courage to say his own name, to let his ex-boyfriend and previously best friend know that he was on the line. So, all he muttered out was a weak “hello”

The other line went silent, and Ryan nearly believed Brendon hung up when he said, “…Ryan? Is that you?”

“Y-Yes.” He probably responded too fast, but he didn’t care. Because Brendon actually recognised who it was, that it was Ryan Ross.

“Why the hell are you calling me?” Ryan flinched at the tone of his voice, having nearly forgotten the fight they had. It had been their last conversation, full of yelling and screaming, and bad words that weren’t true being thrown at the other. That was a terrible night.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered out, his hand heavy on the cupboard that contain his painkillers. He didn’t know what he was apologising for, he had done so much shit to Brendon. But he seemed to understand, even if it was only a little bit.

“Ryan, that was five years ago,” he spat back, and Ryan sighed. “It’s too late for you to say ‘sorry’”

Ryan opened the cupboard door, looking around for the bottle. “It doesn’t mean it’s any different. I regret what I did-“

“And yet you did it anyway.”

Ryan had only heard Brendon speak in that tone when they fought. Not their little arguments, but in their full on screaming matches they’d sometimes have. He hated it, hated how his voice was filled with so much venom. But he only whimpered, not biting back like he kind of wanted to.

“I-I thought it was the right thing to do at the time, okay?” his hand gripped the white plastic bottle with the red paper, pulling it out and reading the dosage. Not that it matters.

“Leaving me? Ryan, you broke me,” Brendon lowered his voice, but continued speaking. “I thought we had something, a future. And you broke my heart.”

“I know… I broke my heart to,” he opened the bottle, cursing slightly when it shook loudly, loud enough for the male on the phone to hear.

“Ryan… what was that?”

Ryan, since he had been balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder as he opened the pills, placed his phone on the other shoulder. He didn’t reply for a minute as he slowly poured the pills into one hand. “Ryan, do I hear pill? Don’t you fucking dare?”

Ryan smiled slightly, reaching out and placing his phone on the counter, on speaker. “I’m sorry,” he said, now knowing what he was saying. “I ruined my own fucking life, and I have nothing else, Brendon. I don’t care if you don’t forgive me-“

“I do, I do forgive you though,” Brendon mumbled, voice shaking. Ryan felt something roll down from his eyes, and he continued crying. Yeah, he was going to die. But he wanted to hear Brendon’s voice as he did.

He was selfish, but he didn’t care, he never has.

“Brendon, it’s okay.” He replied, lifting his hand filled with pills to his lips, before hesitating as a sound resonated from the phone. It was a sob. It sounded so broken and shaky, and it was hard to tell who the person was since their voice sounded so wrecked. But Ryan knew it was Brendon, sobbing at the other end.

“Ryan…” Brendon hiccupped, because he never expected this. Last time he saw Ryan was when the two were at their first, and it left him in a fit of rage, one he thought would last forever. Except, not, all he wanted to do was stop Ryan and hold him, not caring how much he fucked up.

But he knew he couldn’t stop him, but maybe he couldn’t accept that, not just yet. Because he didn’t really expect Ryan to kill himself when he heard his voice again.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I still love you, and that’s why I need to do this…” before he lost the courage, Ryan opened his mouth and tipped his head back, the pills falling into his mouth and dryly down his throat as he swallowed.

He picked up the bottle of vodka, ignoring how the taste burned his throat and drinking as much as he could.

He felt the glass bottle slip from his hands, and didn’t hear it smashing on the ground. He fell with his, his head numb and not feeling any pain.

He didn’t hear Brendon crying as he blacked out.

**Author's Note:**

> i think it started to make little to no sense at the end, im sorry. i tried, but this is such a mess™
> 
> also, since i feel a little bad about writing a suicide fic, here are some numbers:
> 
> (australian) lifeline - 13 11 14  
> (american) lifeline - 1-800-273-8255  
> (united kingdom) maytree - 020 3666 2484  
> (canada) inuit hope for wellness - 1-855-242-3310  
> (ireland) pieta house - 1800 247 247
> 
> if anyone you know, whether you or someone you just want to help, please let somebody know. i wish you all safety xoxo


End file.
